My doctor fell out of his chair today.
See, I went in to get my back looked at, and he told me that basically I need a physical therapist (YayfickenNOThoo). Apparently what I did wasn’t a pinched nerve. I did something to my lower back and he’s sure that if I don’t see a physical therapist, I’m going to continue to injure the area again and again.
I, being stubborn, told him I didn’t want a physical therapist. He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his arms and then folded them, and bemusedly put his pen to his lip. “Now why wouldn’t you want a physical therapist? It’s a personal trainer your insurance pays for. And it will help you strengthen your muscles.”
Not, that starts sounding better than the possibility that I could be an eventual invalid due to stretching the wrong way.
He looked down at his chart and almost fell out of his chair. “You’ve lost 75 pounds?! My Gosh! 75 pounds?! And your blood pressure is great! What the heck!”
I calmly said, “Well, when I saw you last year you said to me, ‘I don’t care how you do it. Lose weight.’ So I did.”
By now he was very animated. “That’s it? You just went and did it? Like that? Since January? My chart shows you’re closer to having lost 90 pounds since last year (Me: OMG I must have been huge!!!). And you just went and did it,” he said, rubbing his chin, smiling.
“You told me to.” I looked at him and tapped my knees, shrugging.
He leaned forward.
“Well, the next time I see you, I want to to fix the Middle Eastern crisis, and solve our energy shortage.”
He wrote me the prescription and handed it to me still muttering surprised, with eyebrows elevated, “because I told her to.”
Doctors aren’t used to patients doing what they tell us to do, apparently.
I took my prescription and began down the hall, when suddenly he called, “Hey! While you’re at it, stabilize the economy!”
Caprese Salad Tastes better as Burps
One of the major problems with going to the doctor and then to get a prescription was that I was hungry. I was starving. I wanted to lick the end caps of Chester Cheeto. Of course, since I am still losing weight, I opted for one of the deli Salads at Super Target. It is a caprese salad, comprised essentially of delicious tasting things which, when put together, is disgusting.
Grape tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and pesto. My God, man! What is sexier than those three things, save for Angelina Jolie or Johnny Depp running down the beach in their bathing suits? this was supposed to be the penultimate in salads. The presentation? Beautiful. The taste? Like someone got tidepools caught in their knickers.
Maybe I’m an uneducated swine when it comes to salads. It needed olives. And something more. Like, oh, I don’t know– non-silt run-off levee-tasting food items. I choked down half of the serving, and am going to play with the rest of it today.
I will not rest until this crap is edible!
On the up side, it smells awesome and tastes great as gas.
And, despite what my doctor thinks I lost (he could be right. Who knows. That whole Doctor thing), I’m down some more weight. 74 pounds lost so far since January 1, and we’re not even through half of the year.
April and May were intense rough spots, so I’m excited that the active loss months have been that– as active as me running away from caprese salad displays.